“I’m asking as your husband,” was his gravelly response. “My job has no influence over this conversation.”
Brynleigh wasn’t a fool, and she read between the lines. His job would influence other conversations, other parts of their life, but this…
She inhaled and ran her tongue over the tip of a fang. A single drop of blood remained in the mug, and she stared at it, trackingits crimson trail as it spread out across the bottom of the cup. Her meeting with Jelisette was at the back of her mind, but not even an earthquake could move her from this seat.
“Do you really think it’s possible?” she asked.
There was a whisper of movement, and Ryker’s scent deepened. Without even looking, she knew he’d moved. She could feel his presence beside her.
Her chest tightened as memories of the time they’d had together before everything went to hell haunted her. The wedding and the days preceding it had been some of the happiest of her entire life. She wanted that back and was beginning to realize she’d do almost anything to make that happen.
“Honestly? I don’t fucking know. But I want… I want to try. If you do.” Ryker’s voice, usually strong and confident, was so quiet she had to strain to hear him.
Standing on her right, he placed his hand on the island between them. His palm faced upwards, and his fingers twitched.
The invitation was clear.
Their first touch in the Choosing had been accidental during their blindfolded date, but there was nothing unintentional about the way Brynleigh slowly lifted her hand and inched it toward his. She slid her fingers through his until they were intertwined. The warmth of his hand seeped into her, and her eyes fluttered shut.
They were a walking contradiction, but in the end, her answer was easy.
“I want to fix us more than fucking anything.”
If she were granted one wish in this world, she would ask to be his once again.
Ryker drew in a deep breath and curled his fingers around hers.
“Gods above,” he breathed, moving closer to her. His chest brushed against her arm. “Where do we go from here?”
That was the real question. How did one repair a break such as theirs? It wasn’t as though there were marriage counselors specializing in “What to do if your wife was planning on killing you anddecided not to, but her evil Maker still tried to go through with the plan, and then your wife was tortured for three weeks before you made a deal to get her out.”
There wasn’t a guide for this. Even if the ocean was filled with glue, Brynleigh wasn’t sure it would be enough to fix them… but she would fucking try. She’d give repairing their relationship everything she had.
She slid off the stool, still holding his hand. Barely a foot divided them.
Her gaze caught on his lips. Would Ryker taste the same as he had on their wedding night?
That familiar warmth sparked in her core, and she leaned closer. Would he let her kiss him? They’d had a physical connection from the first moment they were in the same room.
She breathed his name and added, “I think?—”
A shrill ring sliced through the air, cutting her off.
Brynleigh sucked in a breath, her heart hammering.
Twice now, Ryker’s phone had interrupted them. She was ready to smash that troublesome piece of technology to smithereens and get rid of it forever.
Who needed phones, anyway? Kissing was a much better use of their time.
Ryker jumped, his eyes widening as his hand slipped from hers. He pulled out his phone, glancing at the screen.
“Shit. I’m so sorry, Brynleigh. I need to take this.” He grimaced, his gaze darting back to her mouth. “Hold that thought?”
She nodded mutely, unable to find words. Lifting her fingers, she rested her hand against her lips as he accepted the call.
“Hello?” He pressed the phone against his ear and strode out of the kitchen. “Yes, this is Captain Waterborn…”
His voice was a low murmur as he continued speaking.